Born of Stone and Wood
by Olafr
Summary: Ron and Hermione have been shutting Harry out since they got together. Frustrated, Harry meets someone unexpected. [Story idea]


This plot bunny is a response to a challenge posted some time ago by Master Eldryn: Pair Harry with Hogwarts Castle. Credit for the inspiration, though, goes to a comment on Jeconais' livejournal by one of the anonymous responders to Jeconais' recent fic, _Going for a Glass of Water_: "Need a girlfriend? Go the Room of Requirement."

Born of Stone and Wood

By: Olafr )

oOoOoOo

Harry was frustrated. No, he was Mightily Annoyed, and possibly even Vexed. Ron and Hermione were In Love, or so they claimed, and in their mutual fascination they had all but cut him off. Oh, not that they intended to do any such thing... they were still his closest friends, they assured him. Let's all go to the library and do homework together, they said.

But Harry couldn't bear to be with them. When they worked at the library, they ended up trading glances they no doubt thought were subtle, and sneaky touches under the table. He had been there, with them, trying to concentrate on his NEWT Prep Charms homework, but when the two had started passing notes to each other Harry had caught the words _broom closet_ briefly, upside-down, before the note was spirited out of his view. Not long after, he had closed his book, claimed he was finished, and left with all the dignity he could muster. His steps had been measured, and he hoped, confident, as he left the library after a quick 'See you in the Common Room.' Outside the library, his steps had quickened and the world dimmed as the demons of his mind consumed his awareness.

Why? Why had they done it? He didn't resent them, really. He had known, or perhaps grudgingly acknowledged that he had feared that something like this would happen. But _why_ did it have to be _Ron_ that Hermione had become fascinated with? She was his best friend, she was the _only_ one who had not abandoned him, not thought the worst of him, who had tolerated his moodiness and bad humour throughout the bad times of last year. She had helped him and supported him and made him believe in himself, and now she was gone.

Just like all the others. Just like they always had.

Harry's breath came short and quickly, and a lump formed in his throat as he realised that he was, in fact, not Mightily Annoyed, or even Vexed. He was Lonely. Those he counted as his closest friends, especially she who had been the most constant, had eventually realised his worthlessness and had found better company than him in each other. Just as well, really. He would only get them killed. He only hoped that the Death Eaters' spy network was as efficient as it had been in the past, so that they could be truly out of danger. The thought made him happy, in a sad kind of way.

Yes, he was lonely. There was nobody, just him. Just as it had always been. Just as he had been on that evening in the hut on the rock, when he had turned eleven. When Hagrid had come to collect him from the imprisonment of the Dursleys.

With the memory of Hagrid, Harry's mood lightened. He was not alone, after all. Hagrid believed in him, supported him, although like all adults, he believed that there were certain things that Harry should not, or should not have to, do. Things that he ended up _having_ to do, like saving the world from Voldemort. So yes, he wasn't all alone. Hagrid, and he supposed that he was at least casual friends with Neville and Seamus and Luna. So all was not dark. In fact, it was really pretty darn good.

But still he felt out of sorts, and he could feel the tide of blackness waiting to rise up to mire him once again. Why? What was it that was missing in his life, now that Ron and Hermione had found each other? It came to him.

Harry wanted a girlfriend.

He didn't want someone to have sex with, particularly, although that might be nice. He didn't want someone to pal around with. He wanted someone to be intimate with, to share his feelings with, to have private times with, to be warm with... someone to kiss with. And now that he realised that, Harry also realised that he had more or less hoped that Hermione would be that one. Hermione would be the one he held warmly, he shared private moments with; she would be the one whom he kissed, and more importantly, he would be the one whom she sought out to kiss, and be intimate with. But she had chosen Ron, and now that he had missed his chance, he wanted someone too. More to the point, he wanted someone to want him.

But who? Who would want him? Who would want Just Harry? If he wanted to don the persona of Harry Potter, The-Boy-Who-Lived, then he knew for certain he could find someone to say they loved him, and do all those wonderful things with him. (They had to be wonderful, Ginny's old Witch Weeklys had said so.) Three out of the last five issues of Witch Weekly were ample evidence of his status in the world of Witches. But everything within him rebelled against the idea, so he racked his brain for someone whom he could allow close to him.

The best candidate was Ginny. But she was Ron's little sister, she was currently dating some Seventh-Year Hufflepuf, Steven somone-or-other, and worst of all, he had never quite shaken the image of her lying still as death in the Chamber of Secrets.

So who, then? Racking his brain, Harry slid down the wall of the deserted corridor he found himself in and held his head in his hands. Lavender? Parvarti? Eew, no, they were both Witch Weekly women, for all that they were supposed to have known him for five years now. None of Ginny's classmates stood out to him, so how about the Seventh Years? Katie Bell, this year's Head Girl, she was nice, and they got along well after playing Quidditch together for the last five years. But who was she dating...? Oh yeah.

It didn't take long for Harry to realise that he didn't really _know_ anybody at all. His habit of pushing people away, not allowing them close for their own safety he had told himself, was now bearing bitter fruit. He really liked the thought of several girls: Susan Bones, Hannah Abbot, even Blaise Zabini the Slytherin fer gossake, but he had so carefully cultivated his relationship with Hermione and Ron to the exclusion of others that he found that, now that they were gone, he was, once again, all alone. Once again, Harry felt the glassy-smooth black tide begin to engulf his spirit as once again his breathing quickened.

_All I want is a girlfriend!_ he moaned to himself. _Someone I can trust, who can trust me, who can love me... and ideally, someone who can take care of themselves but still see me as someone worth knowing, someone whom I can learn from but who can also learn from me. Is it too much to ask?_

The wall supporting his back was suddenly gone, and he fell backwards a short distance only to be stopped suddenly by a wooden door. Shocked into opening his eyes, Harry looked up and saw the tapestry of the trolls in tutus directly opposite him.

_The Room of Requirement!_ he realised. Getting up, he turned to face the dark, wooden door. _I wonder why it appeared? I didn't walk past it. But I sure expressed a need, I guess,_ he finished to himself. A wry smile twisted his mouth. _Oh well, in for a penny, in for a pound._ He reached forward and opened the door.

Inside, there was a room with white walls, a dark wooden floor, and furniture of some kind. He couldn't tell what kind, because his attention was siezed by the young woman who stood, dressed in rich velvets and cotton, in the centre of the room. Her hair was jet and silken, falling over her shoulders like a silken waterfall of pure midnight, the highlights appearing blue in the bright sunlight that streamed into the room, backlighting her. She stood easily erect, her carriage light and strong, yet at the same time essentially feminine. Her eyes were the colour of mountain lakes, a strong, clear azure, and they were looking at him unblinkingly. They pinned his own gaze, and Harry's naescent study of her body was stopped even as it began.

'Good day, My Lord,' she said in a contralto voice that sent thrills down his spine. Her smile was easy and warming, although not overly familiar. Harry found himself liking this girl, this young woman, whomever she was. Which reminded him...

'Er, excuse me, but who are you?' he asked. _Oh, very dapper,_ his subconscious taunted him even as he finished speaking, and he fought to keep a straight face.

Dimples appeared in her cheeks as she smiled at him. Harry didn't allow himself to hope for anything, but he couldn't help smiling just a little in return. She took a half-step forward as if to present herself, and said, 'I beg your pardon, My Lord. I am the conscious mind and memory of this castle. I was last known as Nynaeve, and I am the servant of the Earls of Hogwarts.' She smiled again as she finished, a happy smile that almost diverted Harry from his shocked surprise and underlying confusion and caution.

'And... what does that have to do with me?'

'Thou art the current Earl of Hogwarts, My Lord. The first for almost three hundred fifty years.'

'What? How? Am I the Heir of Slytherin after all? Or perhaps the Heir of Gryffindor?'

Nynaeve laughed gently, a happy, musical sound. 'Nay, My Lord. It is simply that you have the power and the ability to contact me, and moreover that I feel that you are worthy.'

'You like me and I'm lucky, so I'm the Earl of Hogwarts.'

Shaking her head, Nynaeve smiled gently. 'Nay, that is over-simple. Thy plight and thy need have stirred me. Look you, I am no simple servant. I am helpmeet to the Earl, his companion and assistant, his support and his confidant. I hold his heart, as he holds mine, yet he also shares hearts with the mother of his children.'

Harry simply goggled at her, completely lost. For a time Nynaeve smiled patiently at him, but eventually the smile faded. She frowned and stamped her foot, causing a taut jiggle that drew Harry's eye. Nynaeve crossed her arms which broke his concentration.

'Allow me to speak in the modern vernacular, My Lord.'

'Please do,' put in Harry with relief.

'I am lover and confidant of the Earl of Hogwarts, but I cannot bear children so I help him find a suitable wife, one who loves him and whom he can love. It is a three-way relationship. _Now_ dost thou understand?'

Eyes wide, Harry nodded.


End file.
